


goes right to the head

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, Flirting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29587458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: Geralt’s bard was prowling the hot springs again.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 131





	goes right to the head

Geralt’s bard was prowling the hot springs again. 

It seemed that lately, whenever Eskel had a mind to bathe, he’d find Jaskier already there, waving a lazy hello as he uncapped his skin of wine. Eskel didn’t mind the company, he supposed. Jaskier was a deft conversationalist on all manner of subjects his brothers had nothing but aggressive disinterest for, and he wasn’t hard on the eyes, besides. Eskel would be lying if he said his gaze didn’t often wander to bard, with the steam making his face flush pink and his hair curl around his ears, his eyes looking brilliant and liquid-dark as he returned Eskel’s lingering glances from over the mouth of his wineskin. 

It was just.

Well, he was _Geralt’s_ bard. 

“… 1237 was a shit year for Toussaint, overall, but the Mettina Rose came out strong, if you can get your hands on it. The body is robust, but not overpowering, and there are notes of-” Eskel blinked as he felt Jaskier sidle up to his left, so close that they would bump knees if Eskel so much as stretched out his legs. 

“You’re very knowledgeable,” Jaskier said, low in his throat as he turned onto his stomach, leaning his elbows over the edge of the pool and exposing the bare line of his back. The curl of his smile hooked something low in Eskel’s belly, drew forth a swimming, sparking arousal that spread under his skin. 

It had been … a while since someone had put their hands on Eskel. Longer still, someone who looked like Jaskier, whose pink lips were wrapping around the mouth of the wine skin, a stray, dark drop escaping to sluice down his chin and the line of his neck.

Eskel suddenly felt parched to taste it. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, the rim making a pop as it separated from his wine-stained lips. “My family keeps a cellar in Lettenhove with quite a large collection,” he licked his lips, raising his hand to draw a finger down Eskel’s shoulder. “Perhaps you would care to visit, sometime.” 

Eskel swallowed hard, pushing himself away to enter some space between their bodies. The heat was making his head spin. Or perhaps it was the wine that Jaskier had shared, the taste of which, Eskel was certain, would be well complimented by the salt of Jaskier’s skin. 

“Perhaps you should ask Geralt to accompany you,” he said, his voice rough. 

Jaskier blinked. Then he threw his head back and laughed. 

“Oh,” he said, “Melitele _no_. No!” At Eskel’s expression he clarified. “Geralt’s a friend. A dear friend, but I don’t,” he shook his head empathetically. “Not like that, no.” 

“So you mean …” Eskel said slowly.

“That I’ve been taking three baths a day in hopes of getting a peek at that wonderful cock between your legs and perhaps seducing you into using it? Yes.” Jaskier cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing his boldness. “Unless, of course, I’ve read the situation completely wrong, in which case let us chalk this up to an over-indulgence of wine and never look each other in the eye again.” 

Eskel laughed shortly, still not entirely sure this was not a dream as he raised a wet hand and slid it down the line of Jaskier’s back, making him hum, the muscles of his shoulders clenching and releasing under his slick skin. 

The way that Jaskier came into his arms, slid onto his lap, was as natural as anything. Eskel was half-afraid that he would recoil from his scars when he got a closer look, but Jaskier seemed to purr over them, pressing his lips to the jagged tear across Eskel’s shoulder-blade (werewolf), then the thin, silver half-moon on the side of his neck (harpy claw). But when Jaskier brushed his knuckles over Eskel’s face, he removed the bard’s hand gently, still skittish at the touch. Jaskier seemed to take no offense, turning his attentions to Eskel’s mouth as he hitched their hips together. 

The kiss was deep. Filthy. Wanting. Eskel heard Jaskier groan as their hard cocks slid against each other, trapped between their slick bodies. 

“Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?” Eskel said, amused, as his hand lowered to press Jaskier’s hardness against his own, making Jaskier’s hips twitch helplessly.

“Yeah,” Jaskier panted, a parched man surrounded by nothing but water. “ _Big_.” His fingers dug into Eskel’s shoulders, his back arching as Eskel began pleasuring them both, sucking marks into the pale line of Jaskier’s throat as the bard rewarded him with filthy suggestions. “I want you to just bend me over and fuck me until I can’t stand for _days_ ,” Jaskier slurred, “ah, but first I wanna suck you … and lick you, just- … fucking smother me with those _thighs_ -” 

Eskel came with Jaskier’s teeth around his earlobe, and Jaskier followed soon after, dirtying the water with a open-hearted shout. It rang into the night sky, the cold smatter of stars spinning, dizzily above. 

Eskel was so preoccupied with drawing breath back into his body, and the slowing pounding of his heart, that he didn’t realize that Jaskier had slumped over him.

“Jaskier!” Eskel exclaimed, alarmed as he shook Jaskier’s shoulders and his head rolled limply to the side. Had he been too rough? Had he killed the bard with his cock-

Jaskier groaned, his breathing shallow. “I think …” he said, “I think three baths a day and drinking nothing but wine for lunch is … a little too much.” 

“You’re dehydrated,” Eskel said with slight relief, sweeping Jaskier into his arms and rising from the water. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Yes,” Jaskier said weakly, attempting to maintain a lascivious tone as he wound his arms around Eskel’s neck, his legs dangling, dripping as Eskel carried him from the hot springs. “As long as you’re coming with me.” 

“Water first. And food,” Eskel said fondly, “then we’ll see.” 

Jaskier huffed petulantly and Eskel pressed a kiss to his temple, laughing. He thought of a sunny day on a distant shore, sharing a bottle of Mettina Rose while Jaskier recited his poetry to the accompaniment of crashing waves and crying birds. 

For once, the future looked bright.

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)


End file.
